


Restraint

by i_ship_an_armada



Series: Inevitable [3]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Flint has hair, Flint is a stubborn shit, Hand Jobs, I suck at tagging, I'm Going to Hell, John Silver is a Little Shit, M/M, Maybe not so much mutual masturbation as, Mutual Masturbation, mild restraint, no this is not a bondage fic, plus masturbation?, so s2 i guess, who knows when this takes place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 16:40:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21284843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_ship_an_armada/pseuds/i_ship_an_armada
Summary: Silver knows how to push Flint to the edge of his limits.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver
Series: Inevitable [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534355
Comments: 16
Kudos: 63





	Restraint

Flint pinches the bridge of his nose, wincing against the incessant pain throbbing behind his eyes. The maps spread over his desk had begun to blur together an hour ago, but he had tried to push through it, determined to plot a course before he relinquishes to his exhaustion and goes to sleep for the night. A sigh escapes, knowing he will get no further tonight unless he does something about his fatigue and that he needs to clear his head. Pushing back from his desk, he stands and stretches, his back protesting, reminding him of his age. He tosses the quill down and pulls on his coat. 

The wind bites at his skin when he steps outside, the air crisp and clean. This far north and this time of year, it remains within the realm of possibility to see snow, but he hopes to avoid it if possible. They are not equipped or provisioned for it, and such weather will force them to lay anchor in unfamiliar territory until it abates.

But for now, Flint breathes in the night air, eyes flicking to the men on duty, habitually checking to make certain they are attending to their responsibilities, which they seem to be. None of them notice him, their eyes on their tasks or their watch and enjoying the quiet solitude of the evening. 

His breath billows in front of him as he steps up to the rail and peers out over the sea. The sky is clear of clouds, but full of stars, and the waxing moon burns bright. Leaning over the rail, he looks down at the waves and loses himself for a while in the reflections on the water and his thoughts. They stray almost immediately to Silver.

Night time is the worst. During the day, duties and concerns over the crew and their next prize dominate every waking moment. But at night, thoughts crowd in, unwanted, uncontrollable thoughts about Silver behind a gauzy curtain or the way his face twists when he— 

As if he summoned him, he feels Silver approach, and clenches his fists at the fact he knows the sound of Silver’s gait across the boards of his shipdeck. He should not be this familiar with him He does not want to be this familiar with him. And yet here he is. 

“What do you see down there?” Silver asks and Flint closes his eyes and swears inside his head. For over two weeks he has avoided being alone with Silver, using every tactic he knows, and doing a damn passable job at it. 

Until now.

He straightens and goes rigid when he realizes just how close Silver stands, his elbows resting on the rail and his hair ruffling in the breeze. 

In this light, the color is washed out of him and he is gilded in silver highlights. Flint is irritated he notices such a thing.

Silver eyes him with curiosity, gaze calculating and shrewd, and then turns his eyes to the water, too. 

Flint’s mood goes irrationally dark and volatile, as it has any time Silver has come anywhere near him since their encounter on the beach. He reins himself in with difficulty. 

“Darkness,” he answers.

Silver huffs a laugh, the white mist billowing from his lips like smoke before it dissipates. “Do you always see darkness in something so beautiful?”

It takes a moment for Flint to answer, because his first thought is to be honest— that there is darkness in everything and how could one not see it? Instead, he deflects because there is no way he will let Silver see that far into his psyche if he can help it. 

Silver is not allowed inside his head.

“I thought you hated the sea,” he says, turning toward Silver and in doing so, widening the gap between them. 

Silver narrows his eyes as if he knows Flint is deliberately changing the subject, but then he nods. “I hate being on a ship. I hate being a pirate, true. But just because I do not like my circumstances does not mean I cannot find beauty in the sea. It is like finding beauty in anything dangerous— a storm, a fire, a dangerous beast with sharp teeth.” He curls his lips in a sly smile and his eyes slowly wander down to the open neck of Flint’s unlaced shirt and then back up again. The gaze is at the same time lazy and seductive. “You only have to know where to look.”

Flint is an intelligent man, and he clearly hears the underlying meaning to Silver’s words, but coming from Silver’s mouth, he only wonders at what scheme Silver is up to now.

“What do you want?” Flint says directly, because Silver always wants something. He may not say it aloud, but there is always an underlying motivation for everything he does, and the man does everything for one person and one person only. Himself.

Silver comes off the rail to turn and face Flint, leaning into his space. “For you to stop avoiding me.”

Flint steps back and grits his teeth that he even gave Silver this much power over him. “I am not—”

“Come now, Captain,” Silver interrupts, tsking. The hairs on the back of Flint’s neck rise. “The Walrus is a large ship, but not that large. You find every excuse you can to not be where I am.”

Flint flashes his teeth in a sneer. “I don’t like to repeat choices made in poor judgement.”

Silver’s smile drops a bit. “Neither do I, but I think you are missing an opportunity here.”

Opportunity. Silver’s entire existence revolved around opportunity. Flint narrows his eyes. “And what is that, exactly?”

“Look. We simply cannot go on like this forever.” Silver lowers his voice and speaks conspiratorially. “It is useless for me to say I am not attracted to you, or that you are not attracted to me. I propose we do something about it that works out to benefit both of us. We—”

“There is no _ we _, Mister Silver.” Flint says abruptly. He has had enough of this, and does not wait for a response, and turns to stalk— not flee— to his cabin. 

His body is traitorous and he curses it viciously inside his head. Why? Why of all people on this godforsaken ship does his body decide it is drawn to Silver? He could not pick a worse target for his fantasies. Because he has them, many of them that rear their heads in the dark of the night as he sleeps in his bunk. Dreams that hover in his subconscious all day long and taunt him. Every morning for the past two weeks, as the wisps of the dreams linger, he is forced to will his body into submission, refusing to complete what his dreams start, gripping the edge of his bunk and thinking about anything he can to wither his erection. He succeeds, for the most part, but there are a few times when he wakes on the crest of an orgasm, too late to stop it, his eyes and mouth flying open on a gasp even as the images of Silver from his dreams begin to fade away.

As he opens the door and pivots to close it, Silver slips inside after him.

Flint growls, he actually _ growls _ because this is exactly what he did not want to happen and he is near the edge of his limit.

“Get the fuck out.”

“No.” Silver steps into Flint’s space, so close Flint can feel his breath.

It is freezing outside, and when Silver walked onto the deck his hair must have been damp because there are ice crystals on a few of the strands. They sparkle in the low candlelight before they disappear altogether as if they never were. 

And for some reason, that is what tips Flint over the edge. His tenuous hold on his temper snaps, and he lets go of the door to grab the front of Silver’s shirt, the fabric twisted in his fingers as he backs Silver up and shoves him against the wall. 

Their bodies press close from chest to thigh and Flint grinds his teeth together as he bares them to snarl. 

“Yes.” 

But he does not push him out the door. Instead, he watches from the corner of his eye as Silver reaches out with one hand to shut the door the rest of the way. 

“No.”

Silver’s body is warm after being in the cold night air, and Flint’s skin soaks his heat in, absorbing it as they lean together, frozen for what seems an eternity.

The longer he lingers like this, the less he wants to let go. His body responds and the hard line of Silver’s cock answers. 

Their eyes meet and Silver reaches around Flint’s shoulders to thread through his hair to tug it loose from the ribbon that binds it, and Flint stops just short of groaning before he pulls Silver’s hands free. Silver makes a small noise of disappointment and then frowns when Flint grasps both of his wrists and pins them over his head against the wall in a vise-like grip. 

Silver’s eyes are shadowed for a moment before he smirks. “Alright. If that’s how you need it to be,” he murmurs and leans in to Flint’s chest, angling his head as he tries for a kiss. 

Flint turns his head and says, his voice rough like jagged glass, “No. No kissing.”

Silver looks like he is about to protest, but Flint cuts him off when he runs his palm over the placket of Silver’s trousers. The rigid flesh under the fabric twitches and Silver’s eyes flutter shut as he gasps a soft, “Oh.”

Flint does it again, this time harder and Silver’s lips open on a caught breath. 

He almost gives in then, because in that moment he wants nothing more than to taste Silver’s mouth, to run his tongue over the straight white teeth he sees through parted lips. Instead, he presses his forehead against the panel of wood to the right of Silver’s head while he blindly flicks open the buttons on Silver’s trousers and peels the flap away.

Silver’s breath stops completely on an inhale when Flint reaches inside the placket to wrap his fingers around Silver’s length. He is hot and rigid like freshly wrought iron, and Flint feels the pulse in that same vein he saw on the beach. This time he takes the opportunity to run his thumb along it, tracing over the edge of Silver’s retracted foreskin. The skin is soft and velvety. Silver bucks into his hand. He moans and in the close space of the cabin, the sound crawls along Flint’s skin to settle in the pit of his belly, and his own cock throbs in sympathy with Silver’s. 

Flint straightens and aligns the length of his body along Silver, their coats and their clothes in the way, and Flint wishes for just a moment there is nothing between them. Skin on skin, the heat of them building until they combust. 

He needs, oh how he needs. His heart pounds recklessly in his chest, and he is light-headed with it. Where he was cold only minutes before, now he burns from within.

Eyes opening a fraction, Silver stares at Flint, unable to do anything else with his hands pinned as they are. Their eyes meet and Flint nearly gives in again, because God, Silver’s eyes are alight with stark hunger and Flint wants to come with his tongue in that mouth, breathing Silver in and devouring him whole.

Instead, he shuttles his fingers up and down, twisting his hand. Silver’s hips begin to move in counterpoint to Flint’s motions, and Flint fights the intense desire to rut because if he starts, he knows he will not be able to stop at just this. 

This has to be enough. 

Silver tries to pull his wrist down, his breaths now harsh and uneven. 

“Please,” he rasps. “Please, I just want— “

“I don’t care,” Flint growls and pushes his knee between Silver’s thigh and presses. 

Silver grunts and gives a feeble tug, but stops fighting. Instead, he begins a slow, measured undulation of his body and raises one leg to hook around Flint’s calf.

Flint does not protest, he only grips harder with his fingers along Silver’s wrists above their heads and pushes his thumb into the fleshy part of a palm. Silver’s fingers curl over his.

He looks down at what they are doing and stifles a groan.

Because fuck if this is not the sexiest thing he has ever seen. Silver, fully clothed except for his cock in Flint’s hand, writhing against Flint’s body like some exotic dancer. They move like this, building the tension slowly, deliciously, neither of them rushing to the end though some part of Flint’s brain tells him it would be so much smarter to do so. But it feels too good, because _ Christ _ he has not been with a man in so long he has almost forgotten how much… _ more _ it feels.

Flint is so hard he aches and the pull of fabric across his shaft is clouding his mind. Before he realizes it, his hips are moving too and he has his cheek alongside Silver’s. He is breathing into Silver’s ear and he cannot help it, he leans in and drags his teeth along the lobe, running his tongue in its wake to soothe the sting. Silver’s skin is salty and warm and Flint wants to taste everywhere.

He trembles with coiled desire and when Silver comes, jerking his hips, thrusting into the circle of Flint’s fingers, Flint shakes along with him. Silver’s face contorts into fierce pleasure and the rich flush Flint had seen on the beach rises up to color his cheeks. This is the face he sees in his dreams and he wants to map it with his fingers and sketch it in the journal he keeps in his desk drawer. 

Fuck. He doesn’t know where the line was, but at some point he’d crossed it and now all he knows is that he wants to see Silver’s face twist like that over and over again, and not in his dreams.

Hot spurts coat Flint’s hand as he strokes Silver through his orgasm and Silver’s whines low in his throat, blindly turning his head to search out Flint’s mouth with his own. Skin drags across the skin of James’ cheek and for an instant their lips brush. Flint tastes the warmth of Silver’s breath, feels the capitulation in the softness of his lips before he comes to his senses and jerks back and away. He disengages with a slight stumble backward, letting go of Silver’s wrists and his cock all at once to end up with his back against a cabinet. 

His chest is heaving with the effort it takes to not surge forward again. He can feel Silver’s spend on his fingers and he runs his thumb through it, though the rest of him is still.

Silver stands open-mouthed as his arms fall back to his sides and says nothing for a full minute. Neither of them do, until Silver rouses himself enough to tuck himself back into the placket of his pants. He buttons up before he speaks. “Captain, let me touch you.”

He wants to say yes, his addled brain supplying all the reasons why it would not be a bad idea at all, but Flint was nothing if not persistent. “Why? You’ve got what you wanted, now. Is that not enough?”

“No. I want to give you the pleasure you’ve given me.” Silver steps forward.

Flint grits his teeth and halts him with a glare. “No.”

Obviously taken aback at Flint’s repeated refusal, Silver hesitates, but true to form, he is quick on his feet. A slow smile spreads over his lips. “Alright. Touch yourself, then.”

Flint blinks, certain he has misunderstood. “What?”

“You heard me,” Silver murmurs and his voice is rough when he continues. “I saw you once, and although I was very interested, I was also a bit preoccupied at the time.” His lips twitch into a smile. “If you won’t let me touch you, let me watch while you bring yourself pleasure.”

A shudder ripples through Flint at his words. The ache in his cock turns intense, and his bollocks are hot and tight against him. He says nothing, and though the reasonable part of his brain wants to shout at Silver to get the fuck out, his instincts and his raw need take over. 

“C’mon, then,” Silver whispers, and Flint breaks, every bit of resistance to this crumbling into so much dust.

He reaches for his trousers, his eyes on Silver, wary, and yet his cock throbs when he thinks about Silver’s eyes on him and he gives in to just this much.

He undoes one button and Silver’s eyes stay on Flint’s face. Another button and his gaze starts to drift down until he is fully enthralled when Flint unfastens the third and fourth buttons and pulls the fabric aside to let his cock free. He is exposed now, and he closes his eyes when he wraps his fingers around his own shaft, biting back a groan because God, he’s got Silver’s come on his hand and now he’s slick and it is so easy to pump once, twice, a third time.

“Fuck. You’ve got my— _ My God, _ but you are magnificent.”

Flint grunts and frowns, momentarily thrown off because he knows damn well he is anything but, but he is already too close to stop. He vibrates, the tension winding tight through his belly and his blood surges. Chest and cheeks afire, he shuttles his hand up and down in a steady rhythm and then he turns his wrist how he likes. When he brings his other hand to cup his bollocks and press with the tips of his fingers against the flesh just behind through the fabric of his trousers, the material is in the way, but it is enough.

His hips jerk and his head falls back, muscles in his abdomen tensing and jumping as he pants. With a pass of his thumb over his slit and a firm rub along the underside at the most sensitive spot on the head of his cock he is coming with a choked off shout, his entire body shuddering and spasming while the waves of pleasure take over and control his movements. 

He watches through heavy lids as Silver swallows thickly and lays a hand on his own crotch, and though Flint knows it is impossible for Silver to be aroused again already, it is obvious he is affected by Flint’s display. Flint takes grim satisfaction in it, that Silver looks but does not touch, a twisted self-flagellation of himself for allowing this to happen, knowing how much better it would be if Silver put his hands on his skin, yet denying both of them the pleasure of it.

Silver licks his lips and sighs and Flint’s cock twitches one last time. Suddenly Flint is grateful he is leaning against something, because the cabinet holds him up as he sags.

The moment is heavy with portent as they stare at each other, and an expression Flint can’t quite place flickers over Silver’s face before he steps forward again. He leans in just enough so he has Flint’s full attention. 

Reaching out with one finger, he drags it along Flint’s hand, which rests now, palm up on Flint’s thigh. He lifts his wet finger to his tongue, his eyelids fall to half mast, and then he licks his finger clean and hums in approval. 

Flint groans. It escapes before he can help it, and it is damning.

Silver’s lips curl into a sly smile, but in his eyes something lurks that Flint cannot quite parse out in his current state of mind. He tries to chase the thought, but he loses the thread as his blood begins to cool.

Flint says nothing and watches with growing trepidation as Silver walks to the door and opens it. Silver turns to look back over his shoulder. He raises an eyebrow.

“Pleasant dreams,” he says, and then he winks.

The bastard.

Flint sinks to floor and knocks his head against the wood of the cabinet. 

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is apparently a series now. That happened by accident.
> 
> Unbeta'd, so if there are any glaring mistakes, please kindly let me know.
> 
> If you liked it, please kudo and/or comment. I eat them for breakfast!


End file.
